


Coming on fast like a good dream

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Dream Sharing, Empaths, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Realism, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: There's a feeling of uncertainty that comes over him when he steps out onto the ice and watches as a team full of blue and orange circle around the opposite end. Something tells him this isn’t familiar grounds…Then, he wakes up.( Or Tito has a reoccurring dream that brings him a special connection. )





	Coming on fast like a good dream

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all.
> 
> Ellie coming in strong asking for magical realism and somehow this happened. I've been shipping the heck out of these two for awhile and then they blessed me with lovely 
> 
> Thank you glazedsun, ellie, ash and anyone who beta'd, cheerleaded, etc. You're all just as magical and ily.

**PROLOGUE**

Tito laces up his skates in Brooklyn. He pulls a jersey over his head— white and red and while most details are fuzzy, he recognizes immediately the number 72.

There's a feeling of uncertainty that comes over him when he steps out onto the ice and watches as a team full of blue and orange circle around the opposite end. Something tells him this isn’t familiar grounds…

Then, he wakes up.

It’s the same dream he’s had every night since he can remember. None of it makes sense, other than _maybe_ it’s a clue to his future.

He has the dream at least once a month. The week leading up to the draft, however, it repeats over and over nightly until he has every detail memorized. At first, Tito thinks he’s meant to be drafted to the Capitals but then, no— Google and a bit of determination points him to the Senators.

Draft day comes and Tito doesn’t have the dream the night prior— he was too nervous to really sleep anyway.

Tito gets drafted, but when he tugs the jersey on and runs his fingers along the blue and orange fabric, he’s happy, but he’s also really, _really_ confused.

He’ll be traded soon, he thinks.

Except that night, when he sleeps, the recurring dream is gone, dissipating into some distant memory. He tries to recall the now fuzzy details and maybe even will it back to mind, but his summer flies by and it never comes back.

Tito wonders if fate is a thing and that maybe something unknowingly stepped in and changed his path. There’s no sign of a white or red jersey, no indication that he’s going anywhere other than New York, either.

Camp comes and goes. Tito meets his teammates, he makes the team and when he’s assigned the number 72, things _almost_ begin to feel right.

He finds his place and even though he thinks about the past dream, tells himself to forget about it. Whatever it was— strange and apparently meaningless, is gone.

..

“Earth to Tito,” Mat says, waving his hand in Tito’s face after practice.

Tito blinks slowly, covering a yawn. “Sorry.”

“You really need to sleep more, bro.” Mat furrows his brows and gives Tito’s shoulder a pat.

“Do you ever have like, weird dreams.” Tito bites his bottom lip, because he doesn’t quite know how to explain that he thinks he’s been drafted to the wrong team based on some reoccurring dream that stopped the day he was drafted.

It isn’t like the Islanders are a horrible team to play for—he knows Mat, they’re practically best friends, and being drafted together was awesome. But he can’t shake that feeling that maybe some wires were crossed along the way and he ended up somewhere other than where he was supposed to.

Not that he’s obsessing or anything. 

“When I was younger I used to dream that I’d play in the NHL,” Mat says with a shrug. It’s not all that surprising to hear.

“No, not that kind of dream.” Tito stifles another yawn and really, he needs to sleep. “Like, the kind you have when you’re asleep. The things you remember thinking about subconsciously just before you wake up.”

“Oh.” Mat shrugs. “Well sometimes. Don’t really remember them, though.”

“So you’ve never had one where you’re falling or where you’re somewhere naked in public?” Tito asks. “Those are pretty common.”

Mat looks as if he’s thinking and then smirking, says, “No, usually other people are naked in my dreams.”

“That’s not just in your dreams,” Tito scrunches his nose, pretending to look disgusted.

“Shut up.” Mat laughs. He never answers Tito’s question, which is telling enough that Mat _isn’t_ like him. Mat is— relatively, normal.

..

Tito’s life continues on as an Islander and briefly, a Sound Tiger, though he likes to pretend his stint in the AHL never happened.

It’s when he ends up on a line with Mat and Ebs and everything seems to click that he forgets all about his strange dreams.

When the season ends Mat and Ebs both get an invite to the World Championship. He doesn’t think he’ll be going along, but after a few days, Mat tells him to stay positive and keep his phone nearby. Just in case.

That night, when Tito closes his eyes, getting his own invite is the last thing he thinks about before drifting off.

The next day Tito wakes up full of excitement, practically jumping out of bed. He doesn’t dream, really, but remembers a Canada jersey being the last image to flash across his mind before his eyes open.

He checks his phone for messages and frowns when there’s no missed calls or voicemail to listen to. Tito isn’t invited to the World Championship that morning, nor is he that afternoon. Still, there’s a feeling of absolute accomplishment that lingers and tells his brain to celebrate because _yes, you’ve done it!_

Tito doesn’t celebrate.

What’s worse is when he receives a group text from Thomas who, ironically, _did_ make it.

Tito isn’t bitter— he’s still really happy for Thomas, even congratulates him. It’s that not making it sucks even more when slowly more of his friends make the cut. 

One week later, it happens.

Tito gets his invite.

“I told you so,” Mat says when he and Tito meet for lunch.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tito replies and takes a bite of his pizza in hopes that Mat will follow suit and shut up. He doesn’t sent a group text to everyone— Mat does, which, okay, he thinks. Mat just likes to gloat.

“Denmark is about to be so lit.” Mat, thankfully, takes a bite of his pizza after that.

..

Denmark, as it turns out, _isn’t_ lit— at least not right away.

Tito lands in Riga first for some training and a pre-tournament that’s coming up against Latvia. He expects to be rooming with Mat but when he opens the door to his hotel room, he is pleasantly surprised to see Thomas sitting on the couch.

“Did you request this?” Tito laughs when he drags his suitcase inside and drops the handle to pull Thomas into a hug.

“No, I promise.” Thomas smiles.

“Where’s Barz?”

“With Eberle?” Thomas looks at him, almost as if he’s expecting Tito’s reaction to be less than okay with the rooming situation.

“Oh.”

Tito tries not to laugh and shakes his head instead. Thomas doesn’t exactly know about Mat’s crush on Jordan Eberle and knows better than to bring that up. At least not until Mat shoots his shot, anyway.

“I know you two are super close now.” Thomas nudges Tito’s shoulder and he has to wonder if he’s implying something. He wouldn’t be the first person to assume Tito and Mat were a thing, even if he’s wrong.

“Good thing you have great roommate potential,” Tito says and when Thomas smiles, he feels thankful for his placement and smiles back.

“Wouldn’t want to be a terrible roommate,” Thomas says when he sits on his bed and lays back. “Then you’d just leave me for Barzy.”

“Pfft.” Tito walks across the room, kicks off his shoes and lays down in the bed next to him. “I see Barzy all of the time. Sometimes a change of scenery is a good thing.”

“So that’s what I am?” Thomas asks. “Scenery?”

“Yeah,” Tito says, opening Instagram. “Now come here, you dumb plant.”

“I’ve been told I’m more like a tree,” Thomas retorts. Which, okay, Tito thinks. That’s fair.

Tito snaps a photo, but it’s blurry because Thomas just can’t stop from laughing, so he does the next best thing and takes a boomerang. It’s a little basic, but Thomas loves it, especially when Tito pulls a stupid face. Feeling triumphant, Tito hits share.

They stay like that, staring up at the ceiling and catching up on each other’s lives for a good hour before Tito begins to feel pretty hungry. He’s just about to mention it when Thomas sits up slightly and looks at him.

“Wanna go get dinner?” Thomas says, his smile still very full.

“Actually, yeah.” Tito nods, happily and when he and Thomas leave their hotel room together, something tells him his experience during the World Championship is going to be pretty great.

..

Tito spends a lot of time with Thomas and Luc. It’s nice to fall back into speaking French and sometimes they do, out of habit, forgetting some of the guys around them don’t exactly know what is being said.

Mat picks up quite a bit, but more often than not his contributions include less than savory language.

“I had a dream about Canada,” Thomas says one night during dinner with the four of them.

Tito responds, turning his head quickly to stare at the boy sitting next to him, pretty sure he was close to inflicting whiplash onto himself. Someone— Luc, he thinks, laughs, but Luc doesn’t understand the significance of dreams the way Tito does.

“Like, _Canada_ Canada?” Tito sets down his fork to give Thomas his full attention. Luc snickers. 

“Yeah,” Thomas says, then pauses. “I think?”

“How do you _think_ you’ve dreamt about something?” Luc asks.

“Yeah, that’s pretty vague,” Mat says, more focused on his spaghetti dinner than anything.

“Not the country,” Thomas says with a laugh. “The team. Before I even got an invite. It was like I knew? We were practicing and Barzy said something really weird.”

“Barzy always says weird things.” It must have been a fluke, Tito thinks, and goes back to his own dinner.

“Yeah but.” Thomas lowers his voice. “Barz, are you like, fucking Ebs?”

Both Tito and Mat nearly choke on their pasta. Luc laughs loudly.

..

“You fucking told Chabby?” Mat is hysterical by the time he reaches his hotel room. It’s a wonder he doesn’t slam the door on Tito, who’s lucky to follow him inside.

“I didn’t tell _anyone_ about you and Ebs!” 

“Then how does he know I— you know what, I don’t care.” Mat grabs a pillow from his bed and throws it directly at Tito’s chest.

“I swear, man,” Tito says, clutching the pillow to his chest, voice becoming a bit frantic. “Why would I—”

“Because you want to fuck Chabs.”

“What?!” Tito feels his heart speed up a bit. He doesn’t _not_ want to do that type of thing with Thomas, but even so it’s so far out of his mind that it isn’t like it’s obvious.

Besides, Tito isn’t outgoing or confident like Mat. Tito won’t drop hints, because he’s pretty awkward when push comes to shove and Thomas isn’t exactly smart enough to pick up on his cues, either. So _maybe_ Tito would— but he’s not trying.

“Admit it,” Mat says, the anger still very present in his eyes. “And I won’t tell him.”

Tito rolls his eyes. “First, that’s like, manipulative as hell and second, even if I did, who cares. It’s not like I’ve got any redeeming qualities that say, _Hey, I’m the right choice for your next one night bro-bang_.”

“Stop,” Mat says with a sigh. “It’s really hard to be pissed off at you when you’re so self-deprecating.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on,” Tito says, hands shaking slightly. “It’s— sometimes I just _feel_ things that aren’t mine to feel. And maybe Thomas the same? I don’t know.”

“That’s—” Mat begins.

“Ridiculous? I know.” Then Tito begins to pace, because it’s the only way he can sort this mess out logically. “It’s like he tapped into one of our brains. And I can’t quite figure out how or why. It just _happens_.”

“This is too much,” Mat laughs. He might not believe Tito, but Tito isn’t entirely sure he believes himself either. “What a way to get out of me being annoyed with you for outing me to Chabby.”

“Dude,” Tito says, but lets it go. “Just. Can we not mention this again?”

“Fine by me,” Mat says, tugging his pillow out of Tito’s arms. “As long as you stop mentioning my sex life over dinner.”

“ _Potential_ sex life,” Tito reminds him. Because he knows damn well the second after Mat’s successfully bagged Ebs, he’s getting a text all about it. “And technically that was all Chabby.”

“Who’s having sex with Chabby?” Ebs asks from the doorway then holds out his hand to stop either of them from speaking. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Tito definitely isn’t talking about this. He clears his throat and is out the door long before Mat can say another word.

..

The day of their first pre-tournament game arrives much quicker than Tito anticipates. He feels ready, is excited for sure, but it’s a bit strange to be on yet another line. Tito watches as Mat skates over to Ebs and smiles to himself, well-knowing. Mat has his tried and true tricks and for a vet, Ebs is pretty naive.

“They’re flirting,” Thomas says when he skates up behind Tito.

“Dude, shh.” Tito looks over at Mat, but he’s oblivious that he’s being talked about. “I never told you that. Mat thinks I did.”

“I— oh.” Thomas looks down at a puck between his skates, giving it a little kick. “Well I know you didn’t. It was just a dream.”

Tito shrugs. There’s too many people around to even consider discussing this, especially when they’re supposed to be warming up. He takes a puck and begins his routine, only looking over his shoulder for a few seconds. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Promise?” 

“Yes,” Tito says, then shoots the puck down the ice. “Now come on, I’m gonna go mess with Barzy.”

“Race you,” Thomas says and they take off.

The game itself is a great start.

Tito scores the game winning goal and maybe it doesn’t mean much, but it feels great. He doesn’t seem to mind when McDavid is given most of the attention— he is the captain, anyway. Tito’s happy to contribute, even if it’s just a pre-tournament game.

He gets to speak to the media which is probably is least favorite part of it. His English has improved in just two years, but, “public speaking is a bitch,” He tells Thomas once they’re back in their room.

“You weren’t that bad,” Thomas says.

“Have you heard me talk?” Tito runs a hand over his face. “Barz drags my ass constantly. Not everyone has an answer for everything, you know?”

“About that.” Thomas pulls off his hoodie and sits on the end of Tito’s bed. “You wanted to know about my dream?”

Tito sits down next to him and nods. “Yeah, if that’s cool?”

“It was just, like a prediction?” Thomas looks at him and Tito can tell he’s nervous. 

Something about Thomas' face makes Tito nervous, too. He’s pretty sure that he can feel just how on edge Thomas is about it all. 

“I mean, maybe. But Barzy is pretty obvious,” Tito shrugs, and places his hand on Thomas' arm to still him. A wave of something which he can only attribute to uncertainty and nervous energy hits him like a brick and Tito has no choice but to recoil from it.

“Is something wrong?” Thomas' eyes widen and it’s safe to say he looks just as freaked out as Tito.

Something is at play, Tito just doesn’t know what.

“No, no,” Tito lies. “I’m just really tired.”

Thomas' mouth forms an ‘O’ and he must figure out that Tito isn’t in the talking mood because he stands up, grabs his hoodie and moves over to his own bed. “You should get some sleep, you worked hard out there tonight.”

And when Thomas smiles, Tito feels that, too— warmth building within his chest.

“Talk tomorrow?” Tito says, sprawling out across his bed, not even bothering to get undressed.

“Tomorrow,” Thomas agrees.

Tito must be exhausted. He falls asleep pretty quickly— within seconds of closing his eyes. The last thing he thinks about before he’s out is their win followed by Thomas' laugh.

..

Thomas is up before the sun. Tito only knows because he wakes up shortly after and can hear the shower running across the room. They don’t talk about the night before, because Tito can’t think of an appropriate way to bring up something that’s obvious neither quite understand.

They have the day off and spend half of the morning in Tito’s bed, attempting to watch a movie that’s in a language neither understand. Thomas orders room service, and Tito laughs at him for eating Fruit Loops, like that’s an appropriate breakfast for someone trying to win a championship.

“When they said they breakfast was the most important meal of the day, I don’t think they were talking about Fruit Loops,” Tito says, content with his own breakfast of toast and eggs.

“First, who is _they_? Second,” Thomas says, stirring his colored milk around. “It’s still breakfast and it counts.”

“Whatever man,” Tito says with a shy smile and leads his head against Thomas' shoulder. He half-attempts to watch the movie again, but it makes even less sense than when they turned it on. “This movie is really bad.”

“Want to go fuck with Barzy?” Thomas sets his empty bowl aside and checks his phone.

Tito knows there’s nothing new in the group chat because his phone hasn’t vibrated in over an hour, which means one of two things in Mat’s world. He takes a minute to send Mat a text, then laughs when he replies

_in bed_

“Why is he in bed at noon?” Thomas looks down at his phone as if he’s attempting to make sense of Mat.

Tito’s phone vibrates— Thomas' doesn’t. It’s still Mat, just _privately_. When Tito sees there’s a photo attached, he’s almost afraid to look.

“What is it?” Thomas asks.

It can’t be that bad, Tito thinks, so he shrugs, opens his phone and just about drops it when the photo loads. Mat grins, giving the peace sign from beneath the covers. There’s nothing suspect about any of it until he squints his eyes and can make out just the slightest silhouette of someone next to him. Ebs.

“That son of a bitch did it.”

Thomas leans over, looks down at Tito’s phone and the noise he makes is telling enough that he’s caught on pretty quickly. Tito laughs, because he’s known Mat long enough and has definitely seen his fair share of things he wishes he hasn’t, but nothing is as priceless as Thomas' reaction. 

“Well,” Thomas says when he’s finally able to form words again. “I need a drink.”

..

Later, they do.

It turns out that Denmark is a pretty great place to drink and once Tito is feeling the buzz, he really, _really_ loves his team.

“I love this,” Tito says cheerfully. “I wish I made the playoffs but. This is like playoffs, right?”

“This is nothing like the playoffs,” Luc says when Tito throws an arm around him. 

“Why not?” He frowns.

“I dunno,” Luc shrugs, clearly a bit drunk himself. “This is like, summer camp? But playoffs are different. Super stressful. Like an extra exam you need to graduate or something, and not everyone does.”

“What are you talking about?” Mat looks at Luc, eyebrow raised. “You either need to stop drinking or drink more. Hockey is nothing like school, either.”

“You learn though, right?” Tito says.

“You improve your skills,” Mat replies. “Not write term papers.”

“Something tells me you didn’t write papers even when you were in school, Mathew,” Thomas says, failing at holding back a grin.

Tito doesn’t mean to laugh, because he was pretty bad at doing his own homework, but then Thomas laughs and Tito feels something inside of him bubble up, like a fizzy drink that tickles his nose. He tries to hold it in, but Thomas doesn’t stop and Tito feels like he just may burst if he doesn’t. 

So Tito laughs. He hides his face in his hands and all it does is make him laugh harder because okay, it’s really funny, even if Mat doesn’t agree.

Mat rolls his eyes about the time Ebs comes back with some drinks, which is good timing for Tito. He gives Mat a knowing grin, averts his eyes between Ebs and Mat and _knows_ that if Mat could, he’d kick him right then and there.

“Last one,” Ebs says, drinking from the beer he got for himself. “We have to get you to bed soon so that we’re in top shape for the game.”

“You’re tucking him in now?” Tito asks with a sly grin. He knows Ebs can’t see just how wide Mat’s eyes get and Mat definitely can’t see that Ebs’ do the same.

“I um.” Ebs clears his throat. “I meant all of you. All of _us_ ,” he says. 

Nice save, Tito thinks. “I don’t need to be tucked in, but thanks, Dad.”

Mat gives Tito one last warning look and he decides to play nice. The last thing Tito wants is to mess up their chemistry tomorrow. When the night ends a bit early and Ebs leads a slightly stumbling Mat out, Tito somehow holds it in until they’re out of sight. 

It sets off another string of Tito laughing followed by Thomas laughing harder until they’re both near tears. 

“What the hell?” Luc furrows his brows at the two of them, sets his empty glass down and taps Pager on the shoulder. “Do you know what they’re laughing at?”

Pager just shrugs.

“Barzy’s fucking Ebs,” Thomas says in between laughing, which—

 _Shit_ , Tito thinks. Mat is really going to kill him now. 

“I know,” Luc says, like it’s common knowledge. Pager nods in agreement. 

“Wait what?” Tito’s eyes widen, absolutely elated. It’s the best thing he’s heard all night.

“Heard them.” Luc makes a face, tips a shot back and it’s enough to set the rest of them all off laughing once again.

..

They play USA and Tito is determined to win. He’s cried in the past over losing, been pretty embarrassed about it and… he doesn’t want to do that again.

So he pushes himself, has a few breakaways but nothing seems to connect. He’s frustrated until Thomas taps his sticktape as a reminder.

“What?” Tito scoffs.

“Take your own advice.” Thomas pulls off his glove and runs his finger over the sharpie scrawled across Tito’s stick and reads, slowly, “Have fun.”

Tito smiles and then next shift, pictures Thomas matching the drawn on smile across his stick. He swears he almost hears his voice when he’s in front of the net— _shoot, now_.

So he does.

The puck goes in and Tito feels the excitement vibrate throughout his body. All he sees is Mat skating towards him but it isn’t Mat that he hears in his head— it’s Thomas, cheering loudly and matching his enthusiasm. 

“Good job, man,” is the only thing he hears Mat say and barely registers when he pats him on the back. 

When they skate off the ice for the end of the second period, Thomas stops Tito to bump his side with a laugh. 

“That was crazy,” Thomas says, voice low. “It was like you somehow heard me tell you exactly where to go.”

“Did you?” Tito asks, but no— that’s impossible, he tells himself.

“Well, no,” Thomas admits. “I had a feeling you would score though. That counts, right?”

“Right,” Tito says with a smile.

The feeling doesn’t last— USA scores again at the beginning of the third and though they tie it again at 4, Tito is back to feeling defeated. While being on a line Mat and Ebs is usually a great thing, Mat is visibly frustrated and it begins to show. Ebs doesn’t admit it, but Tito can tell he doesn’t feel the same playing with Mat’s hockey sticks instead of his own. There’s an imbalance there and when things go to Overtime and then a shoot out, Tito is more nervous than ever.

“It’s okay if we lose,” Ebs says, but Mat scoffs and Tito— he doesn’t _want_ to lose.

When they lose in a shootout, Tito is crushed.

It’s, in retrospect, not that important— _yet_ , but losing when your minutes are cut and knowing he wasn’t ever considered for the shoot out, if he’s putting it bluntly, sucks.

He’s quiet the entire way back to the hotel— everyone is, which is a nice change. It isn’t nice that they’re miserable, but Tito’s thankful to avoid any awkward small talk this time. And Tito doesn’t talk until he’s changed into sweatpants and crawls across his mattress, safe in his hotel room with only Thomas, equally quiet on the bed next to his.

Tito’s frustrated, like he could _cry_ , which makes him feel a bit embarrassed because it’s their first game. There’s plenty of chances to turn it all around. He closes his eyes, steadies his breathing and then— a sniffle. Not his, but Thomas'.

“Are you... crying?” Tito asks softly, because the answer is obvious.

Thomas doesn’t answer, just wipes at his eyes quickly.

“Hey.” Tito’s voice stays low, shrouded with concern. He doesn’t think twice, just moves across the room, lowers himself next to Thomas and pulls him into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas says.

It’s not the answer Tito’s expecting.

“Losing sucks,” Thomas admits, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But. I felt different— really _sad_.”

“I’m sad, too,” Tito says, though that feeling seems to slip away when Thomas lays his head against his chest. He was sad, he thinks. Until Thomas was. It’s too much for him to think about, especially when he runs a hand over Thomas' hair, which is all it takes to calm him down and Thomas actually smiles at him through slightly red eyes.

“Thank you.” Thomas hooks an arm around Tito’s as he falls into contentment and Tito, relieved, presses a kiss to the top of his head, following.

Tito doesn’t mean to fall asleep there, like _that_ — he just does.

..

It’s another strange chain of events they don’t talk about, though in Tito’s defense, he spends most of the morning waiting for Thomas to mention that they fell asleep together or to bring up another weird dream, which he doesn’t.

They practice, do their usual team bonding and by lunchtime, Luc talks them into watching some sort of kayaking competition that’s pretty boring until someone almost flips their boat.

“That’s not funny!” Tito says, but he laughs which kind of negates his comment all together. He doesn’t mean to laugh, but Thomas does and it’s becoming nearly impossible not to do the same around him.

They both get weird looks from some of the other guys, Mat especially. Mat makes an offhand comment about how one can’t do literally anything without the other one reacting and it’s curious to Tito. Most of his most intense emotions are sudden, uncontrollable and he has to wonder if maybe they’re somehow connected to Thomas— if Thomas' feeling the same.

Mat assumes Tito and Thomas are sleeping together. He’s wrong, but Tito doesn’t tell him otherwise.

He thinks it’s because he would, maybe, if the opportunity arose.

When Thomas stares at him through most of dinner, Mat is the first to pull him aside.

“Dude, Chabs wants to bone,” Mat says pretty bluntly.

Tito laughs, because again, he would, but, “What, like right now?”

“Probably?” Mat nudges him with a grin. 

It’s a lot for Tito to process, especially because he spends the rest of dinner thinking about it. When he looks up, near the end of dinner, and his eyes meet Thomas', Thomas smiles, shyly and— _Oh God_ , Tito thinks. He might know.

Turns out Thomas does know. Tito doesn’t know if he’s just that good at reading Tito’s body language or has some secret way of slipping into his mind. He, frankly, stops caring the second their hotel door closes and Thomas' mouth is over his.

They don’t _bone_ , as Mat puts it— they kiss. A lot, until they’re both a bit dizzy and breathless, Tito’s mouth pink and wet. He doesn’t even realize just how exhausted he is until Thomas pulls him in for another kiss and they make out lazily, drifting in and out of sleep.

Thomas falls asleep in Tito’s bed this time, arm draped over Tito, mouth pressed against his neck. It’s a little uncomfortable, but the warmth is soothing and lulls Tito asleep shortly after.

..

Tito wakes up, cheeks warm and heart full. It’s a particularly strange feeling, like someone has his heart cradled in his hands. He recognizes the feeling immediately as love, but Tito doesn’t think he’s in love— he hasn’t been in quite some time.

When he rolls over, Thomas isn’t in his bed anymore. It’s not a big deal. Tito figures he woke up cramped up and needed a bit more room. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’s still fast asleep on the other side of the room, chest rising and falling with each breath. There’s a slight smile on his face and Tito can’t help but wonder if he’s having a similar dream— not that Tito can remember this one. He hasn’t fully remembered his dreams since before being drafted, just wakes up feeling different emotions each time. 

There’s a few clear details this time, though, which is different— lunch in Denmark with some of the guys. Laying around in bed and laughing. Things they’ve done already. Things that shouldn’t equate to love, anyway. But when he sits up, chest feeling tight, Tito feels like there’s someone he’s supposed to be kissing. Thomas.

“What time is it?” Thomas' voice comes through the dark.

“Four A.M.?” Tito frowns because he’s somehow woken up Thomas and his feelings— the feelings he’s sure aren’t even his, dissipate as Thomas blinks himself awake.

“Why are you awake?” Thomas yawns and sits up slowly, bed creaking slightly under him.

“Weird dream,” is all he says. Tito doesn’t know how to explain it, so he doesn’t. 

“I was having a nice one,” Thomas says and Tito can almost see him smiling.

Tito’s stomach swoops. It’s as if that feeling of being embraced in warmth returns, radiating off of Thomas and into his personal space. It wraps around him, tugs at his heart and though Tito doesn’t mean it, he says the first thing that comes to mind—

“Love.”

Thomas swings his legs over the edge of the bed, head titled. “You know?”

“I don’t know much,” Tito admits.

“Did I say something in my sleep?” Thomas stretches his arms over his head, giving Tito a curious look.

“No.” Tito stands up and can feel Thomas' eyes on him. When he clenches his fists, it’s as if the warm energy around him is contained, briefly, pulsing again when he spreads his fingers out. “Do you ever… _feel_ different?”

“Right now,” Thomas says softly. “Nervous, a little? It’s almost as if I’m picking up on different feelings.”

“Feelings that aren’t yours,” Tito says, sitting next to him. He knows he _should_ be nervous, (he is, a little) but it’s hard to feel anything when Thomas leans into his side and validates the emotions he’s adopted as his own.

Thomas gives his knee an encouraging squeeze and when Tito looks down at the hand on him, his stomach does that weird dipping thing once again. 

“I think I’m supposed to kiss you.” Tito doesn’t look up when he says it.

“ _Supposed_ to or want to?” Thomas moves his hand away, but the bed shifts when he does. “Because I don’t want to make it weird but… I definitely want to kiss you.”

“You’ve already kissed me,” Tito says first, then, “It’s my turn.”

Tito leans in, mouth slotting over Thomas' and it’s nice, like last time, though a bit more slow and focused. His eyes fall shut when Thomas leans into him and something tugs at his heart. Tito’s seen enough movies— he knows all about the phrase _pouring your heart out_ , and the way Thomas reacts, pulling him in, he thinks he may actually be doing just that.

He’s certain, anyway, because Thomas, equally focused and so gentle, does the same— filling him to the brim with what he knows as warmth, straight from the heart.

..

Tito wakes up in Thomas' bed and this time, Thomas is still here.

“Mornin’,” he says, half awake, arm half under Tito’s body.

“Hey,” Tito answers, voice a bit scratchy. He shifts, just enough to let Thomas free his arm, which he moves, but doesn’t seem the least bit offended to have Tito taking up most of his space.

They have to practice in a bit, Tito realizes, when he checks the time, but there’s time to kill. Thomas must have the same idea. He leans down, catching Tito’s lips in a slow kiss. Tito reciprocates, of course, but then it becomes more than a kiss— several kisses, fast and frantic and Tito wants this, but also feels like he’s nervous, a bit hesitant, too— there’s a mix of emotions and Tito feels all of them, no longer able to separate what’s his and what’s Thomas'.

Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be, he thinks.

So Tito does what feels right. He goes with it.

“This is okay?” Thomas straddles Tito’s waist and Tito nods, probably quicker than he realizes.

There’s a bit of clumsy maneuvering to get Tito out of his sweatpants but once they’re off, Thomas follows suit and they’re back to kissing, as if they’ve never separated. Except this time it’s _better_ , Tito thinks, as Thomas slips a leg between his, grinding against his thigh.

“Fuck,” Tito mumbles against Thomas' neck, sucking what he knows will be a bruise into the spot. Someone will notice it later— probably Mat, but Tito doesn’t give a shit. He’s sure there’ll be plenty of evidence Ebs left behind on Mat that he can use against him, too.

Tito isn’t thinking about Mat, though. Not when Thomas exhales, breath shaky, into Tito’s ear and it’s just so fucking hot that he almost forgets how to breathe. “Keep doing that.”

And Thomas does, grinding against him, even faster when Tito shifts just a bit to get the full friction. He moans a bit too loudly, but again, doesn’t care— Thomas is quick to press their mouths together and the next time he elicits a moan from Tito, it’s lost in the middle of a rough kiss.

“I’m gonna,” Thomas says with a groan when he pulls away, hips moving more erratic than anything. It’s sloppy, yeah, but it’s also _good_. So good that Tito’s pretty sure he’s close from barely being touched. 

“Come on me,” Tito says, a bit more demanding than he intends, though it seems to do the trick. Thomas presses a palm against the mattress to steady himself, hips jerking forward with a bit back moan as he comes. “Like that,” Tito says, then wraps a hand around Thomas' dick, stroking him through the tail end of it all.

“Shit,” Thomas says, breathing heavy then, half blissed out, palms for Tito’s dick to return the favor.

Tito doesn’t last long and comes in Thomas' hand after just a few strokes. He’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t so hot.

They both collapse down, Thomas' eyes a bit blown out and looking like a mess, Tito, a bit sticky a physical mess. Thomas manages to grab a few napkins from next to the bed from their leftovers the night before and wipes Tito down. It’s a bit half assed, but works in the moment.

“Was that okay?” Thomas blushes a little, which Tito thinks is odd coming after they’ve already hooked up, but endearing nonetheless.

“I think it was more than okay,” Tito answers. He’d be smart if his brain wasn’t still trying to catch up from his orgasm and settles on doing the next best thing— kissing Thomas with a grin.

..

There’s a team dinner, which kind of puts a damper on Tito’s idea of planning a getaway date for just the two of them. Thomas sits next to him anyway and purposely doesn’t bother to cover the hickey Tito left behind.

Mat notices right away when he spots it and then looks at Tito knowingly. He opens his mouth, but thinks better of it. Ebs is across the table, chatting with McDavid. Tito grins, both of their secrets kept for another day.

When dinner is finished, Tito and Thomas go their own way and walk back to their room. Tito takes Thomas' hand, fingers interlocking and squeezes. He’s tested it before, but now that they’re more aware and in tune with one another, he’s pretty sure what he’s guessing is right— that he can transfer his emotions over to Thomas just by thinking about them.

“Do you feel that?” Tito asks.

“Yeah, it’s your hand,” Thomas says.

Tito deadpans, but laughs. “No, this.” He focuses on how he feels when Thomas is next to him— how his heart beats faster and everything seems to spin and then settle on the two of them. He feels warm, full of what he’s sure Thomas filled him with not long ago— Love.

Thomas smiles, walking, their hand slightly swinging. He doesn’t feel it at first, but Tito knows he does the moment he stops in his tracks.

“Feel it now?”

Thomas doesn’t answer— he spins Tito around, kissing him square on the mouth in the middle of the hallway.

..

“I used to have a weird dream before I was drafted,” Thomas admits when Tito settles onto the bed next to him. “Always the same one.”

“Oh.” Tito freezes. He’s obviously had them, too, but the only other person who has an inkling of the subconscious thoughts that used to follow Tito around at night is Mat. And Mat’s never been good at figuring out what any of what Tito had tried to explain meant.

“That’s weird,” Thomas says quickly, like sharing emotions isn’t weird enough. “Sorry.”

Tito can feel his heartbeat speeding up, because maybe he’s onto something. Maybe Thomas' had that missing piece of the puzzle all along. He’s cautious in his asking, but needs to know the truth. “Were you drafted somewhere else?”

“How did you know?” Thomas' expression goes stoic.

“I’ve had those dreams, too.” Tito feels himself mentally taking a few steps forward, ready to admit what he’s experienced in the past— _his_ dream.

Thomas bites his lip, face twisting into a mix of confusion and realization. “I have the same number and everything, just—”

“The Islanders?”

Tito is certain Thomas' eyes get a little wider at that. He nods, mouth opening but no sound ever follows.

“I spent so much time trying to figure out what it meant about myself but—” Tito thinks back to draft day. He was so caught up in the whirlwind of being drafted first round that he wasn’t exactly thinking about where everyone else was going.

Tito hardly even remembered that Mat was drafted to the Islanders until he came running down the hallway that day to have his mother take a photo of the two of them.

“When did your dream stop?” Thomas asks, which is curious. Tito never mentioned it stopping.

“When I was drafted.”

Thomas nods. “Mine too.”

“And then things got weird,” Tito admits. “Really weird. Like I knew there was someone nearby, someone who I felt, I don’t know—”

“Connected to?” Thomas says.

“Connected to,” Tito repeats.

“What does it mean?” Thomas takes Tito’s hand and Tito squeezes back, like they’ve quickly become accustomed to.

Tito feels as if a piece of him melds with Thomas and though for most people, it might be a scary thought— to share someone else's’ emotions. To Tito, it feels _right_.

When Thomas turns their hands over and presses a kiss to the back of Tito’s hand, Tito doesn’t just feel it, he _knows_ it.

..

Another game day comes around, against Norway and Tito feels confident.

“Why are you so happy today?” Mat looks as if he didn’t sleep and knowing him, he didn’t.

“I’m taking my boyfriend to dinner tonight after we win,” Tito says with a grin.

Mat raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Okay so, um,” Tito says quickly, voice lower. “Not yet. But I’m going to ask him.”

Mat starts to laugh, which Tito knows he should have expected. In Mat’s world, championships are like summer camp. You make friends, you hook up and most of them you don’t talk to until next summer. Problem is, Mat’s hooking up with Ebs. His teammate and, most frequently, linemate. 

“Don’t laugh,” Tito says, giving Mat a little shove. “You’re the one banging someone who’s probably going to be our assistant captain next year.”

“Fuck,” Mat says, laughing, though a bit nervous about it all. Tito can’t read Mat’s feelings, but something tells him this hookup is different from ones of Mat’s past. “Okay, okay, it’s not funny,” Mat agrees. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Tito says, feeling satisfied.

Thomas must know Tito’s looking for him because he shows up in the lobby approximately two minutes later.

“I’ll leave you two be,” Mat says, giving Tito a nudge of encouragement on the way to the elevator.

“What’s up?” Thomas smiles. “You were looking for me?”

Tito nods, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes,” Thomas answers, immediately.

“I didn’t even ask you yet!” Tito laughs, nerves easing slightly.

“You didn’t have to.” Thomas smiles in a way that’s secret, shared between the two of them. “I can read your mind, remember?”

“You can’t read my mind,” Tito says, rolling his eyes. “Just my emotions. Remember? We literally tested this out last night.”

Thomas grins and Tito knows what he’s thinking— how keyed up he got Tito last night, how he caught on right away just from a simple bit of skin on skin contact. How much better sex was the third or fourth time around the second they realized how they could tune into one another whenever they wanted.

“Ask me then,” Thomas says.

Tito takes Thomas' hand and leaves him to the elevator. It’s not private, but he plans on kissing him and doesn’t think the lobby’s the appropriate atmosphere. He laughs a little when they step inside and some cheesy music plays in the background.

“What is it?” Thomas asks and Tito can tell he’s growing a bit impatient.

“I know we play in like, two different cities but that’s not a big deal, right?” Tito takes Thomas' hand and watches as the numbers count higher as the elevator goes up. 

Thomas nods and Tito can feel his warmth telling him it’s okay to go on— he wants this. 

“I guess what I’m asking is if—,” Tito begins and the pad of Thomas' thumb rubs a circle against the back of his hand.

“I’ll be your boyfriend,” Thomas says simply.

Tito opens his mouth, a bit taken aback. He can’t read minds— Thomas can’t, either. “How,” Tito says, hardly registering that Thomas said yes.

“I heard you giving yourself a pep talk in the shower this morning,” Thomas admits, laughing softly.

Thomas gets a whack on the shoulder for that, meaning he’s known all day long, but he also gets a kiss because he said yes— because they’re bound together somehow and now that Tito is his _boyfriend_ , there’s plenty of time to explore that further.

**Author's Note:**

> Title slightly inspired from [here](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/mattnathanson/still.html).
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ dejadejayou or titobeauvillier on tumblr!


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